Lickable Lolly-pop
by Meeghan Laird
Summary: ON TEMP HIATUS. Mix a 'stupid chromosome' with never having had sex, and you get riotous working conditions in a sex bookstore.
1. Chapter 1

OGM OGM OMG! I was so fucking horny and there stood this _god_ of a man before me smirking at my screwed up wanton face. My fingers had unconsciously grabbed my hooch just moments before my thighs clenched together trying to fend off some pretty hot fucking needs. With my toes pointing inwards, I'm sure I looked like a surprised idiot from some Japanese anime. You know the look – cross-eyed, bottom lip caught between my teeth and sweaty exclamation marks surrounding my head! Thank fuck I was wearing jeans and not a skirt or I know I would have flashed the sex god the front of my panties as my hooch sung 'Hallelula'.

Seriously, dudette, I needed to get a grip, and no, not the grip my fingers currently had, but on my adult … ness; yet this creature, this walking releaser-of-sexual-tension befuddled any cognizant thought in my head.

"Um … Excuse me, miss? Hello …"

"Huh?"

"The women's toilets are out the back."

Turning my head to the unwanted intrusion to my ogling without taking my eyes off the hot swizzle stick, a modicum of sanity returned. Oh, fuck. I _so_ wanted to make like a chameleon and hide. I assumed it was the waitress talking to me, but there was no way in Hades was I going to allow myself to acknowledge the embarrassment of my situation in her eyes.

"Oh … er … sure. Thanks"

The luscious lolly-cock in front of me turned bright cherry red – mmm yummy – as long slender fingers scratched at the luscious mop of milk chocolate brown hair on top. One last look at the sex of my dreams and I took off in the direction of the toilets - Speedy Gonzales had nothing on me.

"Rose? Fuck. Rose!"

"Shit, Bells. What!?"

"I'm in the toilet stall at Coffee Spot"

"And …?"

"Fuck, Rose! Just come get me, please! I need you to make a diversion so I can get out of here."

"And why the fuck would I do that? Didn't you have enough money to pay your bill?"

"Grr … No. Yes, shit. Of course I had enough. I … I …"

The door to the toilets banged against the wall as some stupid girls giggled.

"Did you see that retard with her hands between her legs?" Girl one snorted.

"Yeah. She looked like she pissed herself!" Girl two sounded rather disgusted. Believe me, _I_ was disgusted with myself.

"Wonder where her carer was?" a sweet voice drifted through the derision awash in the room.

"Bella? Bella! Hey! Pay attention to the phonecall _you've_ made, or I'm gonna hang up on your sorry ass!" Trust Rose to be so supportive.

"I'm here. Just please come get me. I promise to explain then. Please, Rose. Please." My whole body seemed to slump over the filthy toilet seat.

"K. Be there in twenty."

"Make it ten."

"Fuck off." With that, my soon-to-be-rescuer left me hiding my face in the toilet cubicle for a whole hour.

"Fucking Christ! You should have seen Bella's face! We all know she gets in to some pretty fucked up situations, but this one is for the World Records!" Rose was absolutely, shit-faced drunk. My lack of cock-play had obviously replicated, en masse, my 'stupid chromosome', much to the delight of Rose's story telling. Alice could hardly breathe as tears streamed down her flushed cheeks, laughing so hard, forcing her to wrap her arms around her sides. Cheeky shit! Good thing I'm used to their enjoyment at my constant state of fucked-up-ness. Way to go, me.

"I found Bella in the toilet cubicle with her hand over her mouth and nose. Some _female_ had the runs in the stall next to her! I swear Bella was about to throw up!"

I kicked Rose in the thigh with my toes to try to shut her up. Of course, that didn't work.

"Hey! I rescued you. I can tell the story how _I_ want." Rose cuddled one of the large cushions on my old comfy lounge chair. Alice had sprawled on the floor on the opposite side of the coffee table. That poor old coffee table has seen many a drunken fest, heard many drunken sex tales and suffered through spillages and dents for as long as I could remember.

"I was wondering what that smell was. Shit, girl, go have a shower!"

"Fuck off, Alice."

"Seriously, though, I did manage to get Bella out of there, but only because I overheard some girl talking about Bella having lost her 'Carer'. I told the staff I'd been notified by Disability Services that Bella's 'Carer' lost her nearby and we'd been searching the area for her. The staff couldn't help us get her out of there fast enough!" Of course, another round of hysterics ensued.

"Um … Bella. What happened?" Finally, I had a real question worth answering.

"Well, Alice. You know how I've not had any luck in _that_ department …"

"Huh?"

"You know, bumping uglies, hiding the sausage?"

"Eww, Bella. Just say sex! Sex. Say it with me, baby! SEX!"

"Shut up Al, for fuck's sake!"

"Ah, no. I will shut up when you do have sex. Hm … Nah. I'll scream first then shut the fuck up!"

"Good one." Rose snorted so loudly causing Alice to fall back on the floor laughing her dainty arse off!

Fine. If they wanted to be dicks about my lack of a sex life, then … fine! Just peachy!

"Come on Bells, you know we're just '_fucking_ 'with you!"

Nuck. Nothing. Nil. Mouth closed, arms crossed. Bitch face on.

Rose placed her hand on my thigh.

"Sorry. Come on. Tell us. What actually happened?"

"I don't want to tell you now. You just laughed at my sex status. That kinda put me off, ya know."

"Okay. I am sorry." Alice did seem contrite. Rose nodded in agreement.

"Alright. You know how I've been pretty wound up lately, on account I've never played …"

"It's called sex, Bella" Bitch face Alice was in full effect.

"Sex. There. I said it. Anyhow, I've been wound up-"

"You've told us this part, already." Rose whined.

"Let me, the fuck, finish! So, I'd just finished reading a chapter from that weird book, and my double-shot espresso. Anyway, I was more than a little wound up after reading this one chapter-"

"What chapter?" Rose was such a pervert.

"Um … The one with the 'Union' sex scene in it"

"Damn, that's hot!" Alice couldn't help but squirm around on my floor.

"Alice, stop self-fucking on Bella's floor, you slut!" Alice shot Rose a pout.

"K. You two right, now?" Bobbing heads from a dashboard came to mind.

"Right. K. Strung up on coffee and unfulfilled sexual needs were at the forefront of my mind when I got out of my seat. I was halfway to the door when I saw the most deliciously lickable, fit-looking piece of 'please-let-me-fuck-you', standing right in front of me. Naturally, Bella's 'stupid chromosome' came out to play and I ended up grabbing my hooch as I drooled at the sight before me."

Dead silence. No proverbial pin dropping. No breathing.

And then it hit. Squeals of laughter so loud, they were unable to resonate off my lounge room walls. It was like sitting next to a rock concert speaker whilst the guitarist hit the distort button. All I could do was sit there and ride it out. Eventually the girls I called my closest friends would fall back to earth. But somehow, that didn't happen until after I finished cooking dinner.

"So, Bella. How was Mr. Darcy in the flesh?"

"Fuck you, Rose. He was better than any Mr. Darcy I could ever imagine." I wonder if I would get any pubes on my tongue if I licked his cock from base to tip?

"Bella?"

"Yep. She's a goner." Alice was such a smug arse-hole.

"What colour were his eyes? His hair? Was he big like Em?"

"No, Rose. Mr. D was certainly built, but lean, smooth …" Think I need to change my panties – again. "His hair was milk chocolate brown.. I didn't see his eyes."

"Really? You managed to take in all that but not see his eyes? Wow, Bella. That must have been _some_ package" Alice nudged Rose in the arm with her shoulder – such a short-arse!

"Part of me is glad I didn't. I mean, can you imagine how mortifying it would have been to see him look at me like I was not all there upstairs? If that's gonna be my reaction every time I see a guy I want to do the horizontal with-"

"Sex, Bella." They both chimed in unison.

"Fine. Have sex with – better? Hmph. Then I'm never, ever going to get any. Still, I bet his eyes are just as beautiful as the rest of him."

"I'm sorry, Bella. You will get to spread your legs for a real man one day, then poor ole Mr. Pinky won't know what to do with himself."

"Shit, really? Rose? Bella still has Mr. Pinky? Gross! That thing needs retiring!"

"Okay. Okay. That's enough. We need to discuss my wardrobe for next week. Need I remind you I start my new job on Monday?"

"Yes!" the energizer bunny that is Alice skipped off to my bedroom leaving Rose and I to clean up the dishes,

"Fucking typical; I hate how she gets out of doing the dishes every time we get together." Mumbled Rose.

Well, the night with the devil twins was finally over, my clothes were sorted for the week, so all I had to do now was give myself a much needed pep talk to keep me focused on my new job. Groan …

My new job. How will I explain this job to my dad? I had no fucking idea. No, that's not true. I did have an idea, I just didn't want to do it. Chicken-shit, by thy middle name, through and through.

Crap! I could picture it now …

"Hi dad."

"Hey, Bells"

"I have news."

"Yeah?"

"Um … yeah. I … er … You know how I love reading and always wanted to work in a bookstore?"

"You got a job in a bookstore, honey? I'm so proud of you!"

"Yeah. Thanks, dad."

"So ..?"

"So?"

"Where is it? What's the store called? Can I get a discount?"

"Oh. Um … It's in town, on Main Street. I can find out if you can have a discount after I start working there."

"Sounds good."

"Yeah."

"Bells?"

"Yeah?"

"There is no bookstore on Main Street."

"Huh? Oh. Um … There is. It's just tucked away."

"Behind a red brick wall?"

How the fuck would dad know that? "Yeah …?"

"You're selling porn? Bella! How could you?"

"How did you know it was a porn shop and how did you know where it was, dad!?" Yeah, back at ya!

Yep. Total cluster fuck, but I knew I would have to come clean with dad, eventually.

So, how did I spend the rest of my weekend? Reading _that_ book and fantasizing over the luscious lolly-cock. Good thing I had plenty of spare panties!


	2. Chapter 2

Well, that would be the most fuckingly frustrating fuck-fest of my life. My bundle of nerves were so worked over by those luscious lips, tantalising tongue, and long, languid dexterous digits, that even the slightest movement of my legs, sent shock waves of pleasurable pain far beyond what any kegel exercises ever inflicted upon me. All that before _and_ after imploding around the most persistently erect, fat, long and hardest piece of cock-to-rival-all-cocks. And, why was that frustrating, I hear you ask? 'Cause I had to fucking wake up and realize my own fingers were just not going to cut it as a substitute for my now, very atypical, lustful nighttime reverie – the lickable lolly-cock.

I could feel the beads of sweat running through my hair, down towards my small cuddly pillow. Shivering with mild disgust, juxtaposed with smirking smugness at my body's salty response to strenuous stimuli, my fingers and toes curled and clenched my now very rumpled bed linen. Mmmm … Kitten purring after a creamy feast.

Fuck it! In desperate need of a shower before getting ready for work, my jelly legs fought to stiffen enough to climb out of bed. Thing about getting out of bed is, there are these massive rectangular cottony things that love a game of bondage. Thank god face-planting wooden floors is so much better than tiles.

It's a good thing that I listened to the girly crap Alice and Rose droned on with; like which tampon brand was the best, or, don't wear spots, stripes and checks at the same time because, well, even I knew that was just so fashion-faux-par-wrong. Because of their ramblings, I'd stocked a couple packets of panty liners under my bathroom sink, just in case. For what, I had no idea - until this morning. By the time I'd showered and dressed, my panties were filled with an alarming amount of sticky juices that I was sure to end up walking around as if my jeans had been triple-starched at the drycleaners. After changing my panties – twice, all the while cursing the lickable lolly-cock - I donned a panty liner, packed a couple more in my scuffed leather satchel backpack, along with an extra pair of panties – just in case.

Work was … interesting. Sure, I love books. I love sex – well I hope I will. That in itself should be a great indicator of how much I would love working at Bourgeons de Rose. Floor to ceiling bookshelves, teeming with all types of erotica … and, no, I am not going to mention them. Perv! But the little scaredy-cat in me couldn't help but feel a tad bit hesitant to provide the fat, greasy-haired, lip-sucking, junk-scratching man with a critique on 'My Octopus loves my Vag'. Yeah, I still shudder just thinking about it … On a positive note, at least I had oodles of educational material – if not masturbating aids by the truck load.

Finished for the day I pack up, muffling a hurried goodbye to the boss. Note to self: buy extra hand sanitizer to use after each encounter with that creepy dude wearing pull-up pants from Target. No surprises for guessing where his hand spent most of the day … eew. Surprisingly, he was the ideal distraction from lickable lolly-cock; there had been no need to change panty liners, or panties for that matter.

Then there was the drive home. I was in the zone – zippy little Mazda 2 Genki 5 speed manual. My little gold honey pot drives like a dream, not to sporty but enough for around town. Hate the clutch; never stalled a car so much in my life! Home was a fifty-kilometer drive east of the city. Snort! Some stupid person decided to call this hellhole in the middle of nowhere a city. The drive usually takes twenty-five to thirty minutes, but I had no such luck this afternoon – bloody road resurfacing. Delays up to twenty minutes. Nothing to do, but sit back and listen to some music.

The hypnotic pulsing of Bilingual by Jose Nunez throbbed through my speakers, inducing images of lolly-cock's cock teasing me, cherry red and delectable …

"Hey!" no … there is a 'do not disturb' sign posted on my daydream, so fuck off.

Tap. Tap. Tap. "Hey! Lady! Get a fucking move on!"

Popeye is not a noun, but a verb and right in that moment, my eyes excelled in the motion. Swiveling my head ninety degrees to my right like a Meer cat on speed, I was just about to tell the guy to take his hand off his cock when I was met with his cock – a red and yellow glowing cock pointed right at my face! Shit! The smarmy bastard knew what was going through my head cause he fucking stroked the base of his glow stick smirking his face off!

Blustering to correct my posture, I flipped the douche the bird and drove off in the direction indicated by his glowing red and yellow light stick. If I hadn't been so fucking flustered imagining lickable lolly-cock's cock doing wonderful things to my insides, then the close encounter with the glow stick might have been a hell of a lot more funny – to me.

The rest of the week went by pretty much non-descript. Creepy dude boss remained creepy, but he was happy with the extra sales – seems having my sweet little self behind the counter had become a bit of a draw card for the pervs unable to get any. No, just because I've never had any, doesn't mean I'm a perv, too. I'm different, 'cause I don't need seedy to get off, unlike most of the men coming into, or should I say patronizing, the bookstore. I did have my sticky situation down pat, no longer needing to bring extra panty liners or panties to work – amazing what the patrons at work can do. Maybe I could write a sex help book for men … I would call it 'How to lose an erection in under two seconds flat. Guaranteed to work - every time'.

Friday night meant ladies' night and that meant Alice, Rose and I hitting the one and only licensed coffee club in our little town. None of us liked the thump, thump, thump of nightclubs, but we weren't that far over the fucking hill to socialise in pretentious coffee clubs serving deluxe hamburgers covered in cum-flavoured sprouts. Not that I knew what cum tasted like – Rose told me. This little licensed coffee club served the best double-shot espresso; the best chaser to a couple of fingers of Chivas Regal Lochan Ora whiskey liqueur. Lip smackin' good! I was dressed to kill. Actually, my attire screamed 'Fuck Off', loud and clear. I hated being propostioned by drunk dicks so I made myself as unapproachable of possible without looking like a skank ho, or as someone said to me once: Tunnel gutted mole, TGM for short. I always aimed for comfort and nothing did it for me more than wearing my favourite old pair of CK jeans – linen and cotton blend, none of that elastin crap for me. Of course I added an old faded green t-shirt I bought from my all-time bestie bookstore in Portland, just to piss Alice off. Yeah, T-shirt and jeans sound pretty ordinary, but, to complete the 'Fuck Off' look, I donned my old black leather hooded zippered jacket, and the most comfiest, worn-in, scruffy, black leather, mid-thigh, steel-capped, Dr Marten's lace-up boots I owned. I felt like me – fucking comfortably in style. Just to throw the drunks off even more, I made sure the eye makeup emphasized my blue-grey eyes. Oh, let's not forget the hair – dark brown and fly-away fuzziness! Alice hated the look, Rose just didn't care. Middle finger salute, my lovelies, 'cause here I come!

"Jesus, Bella! You look like a half and half romper stomper come uni student nerd come JBF with your hair like that! I don't want to be seen anywhere near you." Alice was being true to herself, she detested bad fashion-sense, something I reveled in.

"Fuck off, Al. It's me, alright? I don't need to look like a hooker."

"Bitch, I do not look like a hooker!"

"Bella, give Alice a break. Just 'cause she's so short she needs five inch heels to look at our tits!" Rose could talk. Just one of her tits would make me look so out of proportion I'm sure I would end up face first on the floor from overbalancing.

"Hmph." Poor Alice, she wasn't cutting a break from Rose and I tonight. "Let me remind you that I take pride in how I look. Just because you're a fuckin' amazon, Rose, doesn't mean I am vertically challenged."

"Please. Are we still that behind the times that you have to cling on to and quote PC bullshit to me? Not my fucking fault you spend your time envying my bellybutton."

Huffing back onto the stool, Alice kicked me under the tall round beer table. Remnants of our dinner, chicken and bbq sauce thin crust pizza, littered the large terracotta serving plate. After eating greasy food, Rose was starting to look just as messy as the Tequila Sunrises she had been ploughing through – her makeup needed touching up.

"Hey, Rose? Why don't you take Alice to the bathroom with you."

"You're right, Bella. Come on Rose, your face is melting off."

"You calling me a witch, Alice?"

"Fuck off, Rose. No. I'm just telling you that your makeup needs a touch up. Come on." I watched Alice escort a rather plastered Rose to the toilets out back, chuckling at how easy it was for those two to be close friends. For all the bitching they give each other, I wouldn't give any outsider a hope in Hades of ever coming between them.

The coffee club was filling up fast. Most people stayed for a good couple of hours, kicking back and enjoying the warm atmosphere. It was a place you could talk without yelling, and dance, real slow, whilst the world disappeared around you. If only lickable lolly-cock were here. I'd so love to press my body up against his heat …

The night was pretty damned perfect – warm, a slight sea breeze chilling the air just enough, and the sky so full of flickering stars. Deciding I needed some fresh sea air, I slid off my rickety wooden stool, smack into a warm, firm mass of muscle.

"Umph. Fuck, sorry about that." Oh, Christ. Don't look, seriously. I really don't need the embarrassing "Oh, hey. My fault. Can I buy you a drink?" scenario.

"You can speak." My hand fucking twitched toward my hooch. My body knew the sound of that voice before my fucking brain registered it had never heard such liquid sex in its entire life.

"Oh." Fucking coherency of a goldfish. Concentrating on keeping my lusting fingers from self-groping, I peeked a squiz at the lusciously lickable lolly-cock before me.

"Or not …" His right hand, palm up, hung in the space between us. Before I realized what I was doing, the fingers of my left hand barely skimmed the tips of his. Fuck me! Stormy seas had nothing on the colour of his eyes!


	3. Chapter 3

Sorry to have taken so long. We experienced some pretty awful fires in our area during the Christmas/New Year period. The last couple of days have been equally frightening as we were battered with wind gusts of over 125km p/h, torrential rain and flash flooding. Power, telephone, mobile and internet services all went down. Roads washed away, bridges collapsed. So, no more excuses - here is chapter three:

* * *

**Chapter Three**

Frozen. That's what I was. Fucking frozen in space, time, and however the fuck that quote goes. OMG! Lickable lolly-cock was touching _my_ fingers. Inner wanna-be-slut jumped up and down, spreading her legs further apart with each landing, just dying to get some 'bump uglies' action. Such a ho.

"Hey." Lickable lolly-cock aka Stormy eyes – nah, Lickable lolly-cock is so much better – bent his knees, bringing his dark stubble that much closer the my hooch, er, I mean, face, searching for any lights on behind my eyes. Do you think the amount of drool slowly filling my mouth would be enough the raise the water level of Hoover Dam? "Hey, are you okay? Do you need me to get your carer?"

Right then, I knew I had no chance of ever losing my V card, let alone experiencing the complexities of a relationship with someone of the opposite sex. Hell, I doubt I could even manage to turn Ellen DeGeneres on, and you know, she is kinda cute with those sparkling blue eyes. Cold water had nothing compared to his obvious opinion of me. My shoulders slumped as I closed my eyes with the realization. Dropping my hand from his warmth, I stepped back, hoping like Christ I wouldn't hit anything behind me. No such fucking luck. The rickety wooden stool my arse had kept warm earlier, decided it didn't like touching my denim clad cheeks anymore and crashed to the floor.

"Oh, God. I'm such an idiot. I'm sorry, really." Fumbling with my gangly arms to right the chair must have looked like such a highschool dork moment. "Sorry. I … yeah. I gotta … um … get out of here." I couldn't even bring myself to look at Lickable lolly-cock as I staggered passed his hard, warm body. My only thought was to get out of Oz.

I really didn't quite register the shouts of a deep, husky voice behind me. Nor did I pay any attention to the high-pitched shouts from Rose and Alice; I just kept running.

Finally home, safe and warm. Not judgments – except for my own self-flagellation – and no one to tell me what I already know: I will never be good enough. 'I am Woman' blared from the tinny speaker of my mobile – Rose … Nuh uh. No way. Not answering that. Tag team; 'Fashion is Danger'. Right about now, I didn't give a flying fuck what my friends had to say.

"Piss off! Leave me the fuck alone!" Spittle is so not a good look. Poor mobile, it didn't deserve my wrath. Mind you, I will never buy another mobile that does not cater for left handed people; the amount of times I hit the wrong touch sensitive 'button' on my black, (white is for pussies) Samsung Galaxy III, just pissed me the fuck off on a near daily basis. At least my old Nokia N8 gave me the option of what hand I used. Still, I did prefer to use my right hand on _the_ essential button, if you know what I mean …

Mobile turned off: check. Old pj bottoms - with the stretched elastic – and a faded grey tank top that has seen better days thereby leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination: check. Three fingers of watered down twelve-year-old (couldn't afford eighteen year old scotch) single malt scotch whiskey: check. Sitting in my bed: check. Lights off: check.

By eight o'clock the next morning, I had just about gone into a nuclear meltdown. All I wanted was to be left alone to commiserate the pathetic-ness that is my life. But, no … Rose and Alice had other ideas; banging on my door for what seemed like for-fucking-ever. Seriously? What part of not answering the door or my phone is that hard to understand? I'm the one the gorgeous creature that is the Lickable Lolly-Cock believes to be mentally challenged, for Christ's sake! So, figuring they needed some sort of respite from bugging me, I taped a sign to the outside of my front door:

'I need time out.

Time out means exactly that.

No visitors.

No phone conversations.

Respect my wishes.'

Yeah, I'd give that until the end of the week.

The weekend of self-loathing over, I vowed and declared the Lickable Lolly-Cock to be a past experience from the Twilight Zone; you know the one, "You're travelling through another dimension, a dimension not only of sight and sound but of mind …". Just about sums up my life, don't cha think? Anyway, having licked my wounds with scotch-laced saliva, I realized that life didn't care and I had to move on.

After dressing in jeans and a black t-shirt, I hopped, skipped and tripped into my low wedges then headed out the door of my small apartment. Instead of ripping off the 'warning/leave me alone' note I had put on my door Saturday morning, I found myself arse-up and face first, on the disgusting wooden floor of the building's access hallway. A package wrapped in brown paper and twine now lay partially tumbled and sort of squished under my ankles; seemed the devil twins decided some punishment was in order because I refused to talk or see them. Talk about fucking inconsiderate. Brown paper, plus bare wooden floors, and my propensity not to remain upright fifty percent of the time, was such a dick move. Thanks, girls – really.

Twisting, grunting, and just plain grumbling at the start to my day, somehow the package sat before my now crossed legs, waiting obnoxiously for me to rip the fucker open. Maybe I should just toss the stupid thing out the window, but then, knowing my luck, I would get done for littering, or, even better, assault with a deadly weapon after the package knocked some poor old lady out on its journey to the pavement, two stories below. Yeah, not a good idea. Damn, this wooden floor is hard on the arse!

Dusting off my hands – no, not on my jeans, cause that's just plain bloody gross – I reached for the bane of my Monday morning and began ripping off the twine and the brown paper wrapping.

Oh, my, fucking God! That fucking … gah! I am gonna kill that Lickable Lolly-Cock. The nerve of that arsehole. Who the fuck does he think he is? Some funny man? And how do I know the package is from the LLC? Who else would give me two books: one called 'Wooden Furniture Repair' and the other, 'Socially Acceptable Mannerisms in Public Places'? Twat!

Anger pulsed through my veins. Tears of humiliation stained my cheeks. The books flew through the air, connecting loudly with the wall opposite. Then, like a reprieve in a movie drama, a semi-folded piece of cream parchment fluttered down onto my lap. Huh?

Picture it: legs splayed out in a 'V', fingers clasping said parchment, slouched back, slumped shoulders, mouth open, eyebrows crossed with confusion. Maybe I should have worn a very short plaid pleated skirt with thigh high socks and black, patent leather school shoes, a crisp white cotton short sleeved shirt and my hair in high piggy tails; cause that was about how pathetically deflated, and stupid I felt right in that moment.

Did I want to read what the Lickable lolly-cock had to say? Yes. No. Nope. Not going to give him the satisfaction. Yet, as always, curiosity burned in my soul.

Okay, bring it, douche!

Bella,

Wow! This is not how I imagined starting a letter of apology, but I figured if you were brave enough to be yourself, then I would be true to myself, and just let my words spill out on this page.

That day in the Coffee Stop … I noticed you sitting there, having your coffee, well, it could've been tea. You looked a vision. It took me forever to grow a 'pair' and approach you. Just as I had made the decision to do so, you gracefully left your table. I … Hell, why is this so hard?

I froze. Simple as that. Then you did what you did – you know, with your hand … At first I thought that maybe I had the same effect on you as you had on me. I was rock hard and wanted to palm my junk but forced my hand to grab my hair instead. (The hair on my scalp – just for clarification.)

But then, you took off, so fast. I didn't want to miss out on talking to you, so I hung around, waiting for you to come out of the women's toilets. For a moment or two, I honestly thought you had given me the slip. I asked one of the staff to check on you. I heard her and her friends say awful things about you as they left the toilets; talk about fucking rude.

I had just about plucked up the courage to go into the toilets after you, when this tall, blonde raced into the shop, screaming out what I later learned was your name: Bella.

I think that's when I fell in love.

Oh, God … when the blonde said she was your 'carer', it was like my world had been ripped out of my chest. There was no way I could even entertain having a relationship with you. I left, devastated.

The next few days felt like the scariest rollercoaster ride I could imagine. Call me insane, I do. I mean … fuck! Love at first-ish sight is just bullshit, right? Most would agree with me, I did. But, then, you – you, somehow, changed that stuck up belief system, totally.

I argued with myself. Called myself a disgusting pervert. Predator. Violator. Sicko. Hopelessly-in-love loser. I am, you know, hopelessly in love, with you. ;p

What was I going to do? I couldn't ask you for a date. How fucking wrong would that be? But I couldn't let you go, either. So, I decided that I would become your friend. Hopefully – eventually – your carer. My next hurdle was to find you.

Just my luck, there you were; perched on that wobbly old wooden stool in your Docs and jeans, looking so fucking sexy. The front of my jeans had never felt so tight - yeah, I know … TMI.

Willing my erection to go away was just not happening. I thought 'fuck it!' and made the decision to get to know you. Fuck me, you bounced right into my chest! Heaven.

Then you spoke.

Your friends came back inside after you ran away - second best thing to happen in my life. They were so confused, until they saw me. The short one, Alice, has the biggest smile for someone so small! My ears are still ringing from her squeals. You know, I only thought squealing was something chicks did in the movies. I really, really like Alice. Rose, on the other hand; cool cucumber wrapped around a layer of cold, hard steel.

The three of us have spoken a lot over the weekend. I've learned so much about you – the most important thing is that I can date you, guilt free – if that's what you want. I know I do, desperately. I have also come to learn that Rose is a marshmallow under all that armour, and I love her, for being your protector and friend.

I went to the markets Sunday morning with Rose and Alice. They were 'strategizing' – truly scary friends you have! ;p By the way, I have to ask, is Alice an heiress or something, cause, damn that girl can spend money! Anyway, whilst scavenging through the second hand bookstall, I found these two books that made me think of you. Now, please, don't be offended; they are not meant to be anything other than a reflection of my totally fucked up sense of humour.

The book about furniture repairs reminded me of the stool you crashed into on Friday night. What did that poor old thing do to you! LOL! I have a confession to make, (no, I am not a stalker) I managed to convince the owner of the place to let me take the stool home. I had to pay him forty bucks, but for me, that was money well spent. I had to buy the furniture manual; maybe you and I could work on the stool together, kinda like a first day date, or, whatever …

The other book speaks for itself. Now that I know I did indeed have the same effect on you as you had on me - bumbling fools in public – I had to buy it. And, yep, I did browse through the 'suggestions' on acceptable behavior. We really need to read it together, as we munch on greasy food that dribbles down our chins, whilst downing a couple of gas-repeating worthy drinks. ;p

Bella, I really am sorry for hurting you, for embarrassing you. You have to know my actions were never meant to be anything other than that of a gentleman. Please, forgive me.

As for my feelings for you; they are genuine and beyond reproach. Call me delusional, if you will, but I do, simply, honestly, love you. If you don't believe me, ask Alice and Rose! I have approval! :D

I will leave it to you to decide whether you wish to meet up with me. Do you know the clearing by the lake? Toward the top of the knoll there is a flat, grassy spot I frequent to be alone with my thoughts. There are magnificent views to the mountains as well as of the ocean. Next Saturday, around midmorning, I will be sitting in my favourite spot, waiting, hoping, and dreaming that you'll give me chance.

My heart is forever yours,

Edward Mason

xoxo

My fingers twitched as my hooch clenched.


End file.
